I can’t sleep. I had a converstion with Julie a while ago and somehow we got to talking about bugs that infest our living quarters. We discussed ants, spiders, cockroaches, and centipedes. My apartment has bugs and there is really not much I can do about it since 3/4 of my living space is underground (hence the reason I refer to it as a cave in many entries). There are spiders lurking around sometimes, and I’ve captured a few centipedes. I used to have an ant infestation but its under control now. My most recent addition to the family of bugs around here is the grasshopper. So in our discussion of bugs, Julie was talking about “slimy things” that used to be in her old apartment. Then the slimy things were actually “furry” like catepillars so I sent her a link with a picture of a centipede on it and she confirmed that it was indeed the bug she was talking about. After sending her the link, I actually read the centipede page and learned that centipedes can bite! Their venom can cause swelling and severe pain, but the pain is not much worse than a bee sting. Now all I can think about is centipedes crawling on me in my sleep, biting me all over.
Oh sleep, please happen soon. I have to be at work at 7:30 am which is in exactly six hours. However, if I don’t go insane with work that means that I’m leaving around 3:30. Woohoo. I took a nap earlier because I was mad and napping is what I do when I’m mad. While Julie suggested that I take a standard approach to anger like breaking things or drinking alcohol, I choose to take the less traveled path in my anger management. Breaking things would just make me angrier because after I have my fit of rage I would realize I just broke all my important stuff which would probably make me angry, so if not mad about the thing I was mad about, I’d still be mad that I broke my stuff. I don’t believe that layering problems is a good way to handle anger. And alcohol just makes me sad when I’m angry, so instead of wanting to punch some innocent bystander in the face, I would get sad and want hugs and kisses, which I won’t get unless I can hug and kiss myself.
I want to do something fun this weekend. Something involving getting really drunk or a picnic in the nice end of summer breeze would be nice. I hope I’m not still angry tomorrow but I think most of my anger has passed and I’m just starting to feel sad (see no need for alchohol, it comes naturally). Either I will become happy soon … or I could drown in the sea of depression and resume living on hot cheetos and diet pepsi, with some icecream mixed in. Hot cheetos and icecream are the perfect remedy for being sick, sad, or depressed. However, if you indulge in this remedy for more than a week straight your health will start to fail because all that red dye on those cheetos will start dying your organs, building up a layer of red dye that will ultimately cause them to stop functioning. Eventually I will probably die from eating hot cheetos.
And I have no choice. Sadness just automatically equals hot cheetos just like sadness brings on tears in most people. They are my ultimate comfort food when the thought of eating real food makes me sick to the stomach and when the thought of living another day in the state I am in makes me want to quit my job, leave Pittsburgh, and move to Madagascar with my cardboard box. And nobody needs a job in Madagascar because their economy is based on the barter system. I could make pretty things out of rocks and sticks and sell them at my little vendor stand on street in exchange for a hut to completment my cardboard box, a few soft cotton blankets, and some garments to cover my body with. That is all I really need. And I wouldn’t need hot cheetos because there is no sadness in Madagascar.
Woah, I could start up VCR Town in Madagascar! That was my idea in high school – Ford City was going to make VCR’s while a neighboring town would make cars and then we all just traded when we needed one.
I am down for doing something tonight if you are free. But for now I have to take out our growing mounds of garbage so that the garbage snails don’t take over my apartment.